


Forty-Eight Hours

by Mithen



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Genderswap, Humor, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-03
Updated: 2007-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-17 09:04:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce gets hit by a gender-switch spell that lasts forty-eight hours.  Clark helps him pass the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forty-Eight Hours

"I don't want to hear that!" Bruce snarled angrily, bringing his hands down hard on the computer console.  He opened his fists, spreading his fingers wide, and glared at them.  They were delicate and tapered, callous-free, and tipped with crimson nail polish.

What the hell kind of gender-reversal spell thinks to include nail polish, he thought in annoyance.  Clearly this was a magician with a fine attention to detail...and a warped sense of humor.  With his luck, he also had a Brazilian.

Not that he had checked yet.

Behind him, Superman cleared his throat.  "I take it the results of the analysis are less than optimal?"

Bruce sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which reached his shoulders now.  "Nothing to be done but wait for it to wear off, apparently, which will be another forty-eight hours."

"We could call in Zatanna, or Doctor Fate, or Jason Blood..."

Bruce shook his head.  "I'm not going to tie up heroes who could be busy to fix something that's really just a minor and temporary inconvenience.  It's no worse than having a bad case of the flu, I suppose, and better than a broken leg."

Clark's voice was warm.  "That and you don't really want them to see you like this."

Bruce growled wordlessly at his lover and turned his back on Clark as he began to strip off the ill-fitting suit.  "It's not a big deal, it's just embarrassing."  He could sense Clark's eyes on him as he removed the top, and wasn't surprised to soon feel his hair being brushed off his neck and Clark's lips exploring his nape.  Bruce shoved at him irritably.  "For God's sake, Clark, stop thinking with your gonads."

A rich chuckle.  "Come on, Bruce.  You've got forty-eight hours like this, why not enjoy it?"  Clark's hands came to rest on Bruce's ribcage, just below the breasts, fingers barely brushing the undersides of the new curves.

Bruce tried to ignore the feather-light touch and his body's reaction to it.  Stupid body.  "I'm not interested in being ravished by your manliness, Clark."

"You seem to like it fine when you're a guy."  Clark sounded a touch hurt, but then his tone went calculating.  "Besides, how could you pass up this opportunity?  This is your big chance to learn how the female body responds to sexual stimuli."  His mouth was back at Bruce's neck, the hands tugging him backwards gently until he came up against Clark's body.  "Think of the insight you could gain, how useful that could be as a detective."  When Bruce said nothing Clark moved his hands to cup the full breasts, stroking gently, avoiding the nipples, which was...annoying.  Bruce shifted to try and better optimize the sensation, but Clark's hands remained elusive.  He could feel Clark smiling into his hair.  "Since when does the World's Greatest Detective turn down the chance for a new experience?"

"Data collection," Bruce said a little more breathlessly than he would have liked. 

"Mm-hmm.  For example, it's often debated whether men have equally strong reactions to having their nipples stimulated than women.  You could be one of the few people with good first-hand experience both ways."

Bruce fidgeted, growling.  "Not if you don't--actually--get to them, you jackass!"  Clark laughed out loud and finally closed his fingers over the nipples, so much fuller and firmer than usual, rolling and tweaking gently, and then less gently.   Bruce leaned back and hoped Clark couldn't tell how weak his knees were.  The bastard could probably hear them trembling.  After a long moment broken only by harsh breathing, Clark continued calmly, "So...more intense, less intense, or fairly similar?"

Bruce twisted in his arms to face him.  "Early results point to the former," he said.  "Let's check response to oral stimulation."  Clark chuckled again, and Bruce grabbed his ears and yanked.  "Now."

: : :

Bruce was on top of Clark, straddling him, feeling Clark's dick inside him in some very different ways than he was used to.  He stopped to catch his breath.  Things had gone very, very quickly somehow.  The presence of natural lubrication certainly eased the process considerably. 

He took a moment to thank the deities he didn't worship that the spell hadn't made him a virgin.  He wasn't sure Clark had been thinking of things like that.

Clark was, at the moment, not apparently thinking of much at all, moving restlessly beneath Bruce with his hands clenched in the blankets.  Bruce shifted his weight experimentally and Clark groaned, his back arching.  He shifted again in a few different ways.  Clark seemed very pleased with all of them.  At some point the movements that had been meant for Clark's benefit imperceptibly became more for Bruce's benefit, as he discovered which angles were the ones that seemed to strike sparks off in his intriguing new body.  Slowly, delightfully, he could feel tension coiling within him, sweet and urgent.  Friction and wetness combined and blurred with Clark's moans, with Clark's hands on his ass, pulling him closer, heat and desire building toward--toward--

Beneath him Clark bucked and Bruce could feel his lover's climax inside his body, a sensation so unusual that it startled him out of his lust for a critical moment. 

There was a long, contemplative pause, and Bruce slid off Clark to lie down next to him.

"Is it usually so...quick?" he asked politely.  "That seemed a bit...well, fast."

Clark sounded slightly annoyed.  "No quicker than usual, I don't think.  You usually can keep up just fine."

"Ah."  Bruce looked at the ceiling. 

After a moment, Clark rolled over to face Bruce.  "Hey," said Clark cheerfully.  "Let me show you something."

"What?"

Clark was moving down, planting kisses on Bruce's throat, breasts, navel--"Hey, that's an interesting wax job.  I hadn't noticed before."

"Shut up," snarled Bruce, raising himself up on his elbows to glare.

Clark smiled and licked his hip bone.  "Anyway.  I think you'll like this."

"Oh?" said Bruce dubiously.  Then, "Oh!"  His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell back onto the pillows.

It was apparently going to be a very good forty-eight hours after all.  



End file.
